


80 Days Out

by ArtOfIceSkating



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Other, Slow Burn, Survival Horror, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtOfIceSkating/pseuds/ArtOfIceSkating
Summary: You set out to survive the zombie apocalypse with a group of strangers. After saving Kim Doyoung's life; he makes it his mission to save yours.





	1. Chapter 1

Day 1: September 9

You wake up to the sound of an explosion. It doesn’t register at first what it is with your brain. You lay in bed trying to remember what the sound was so that you can attach a word to it. You hear your father get up and walk down the hall.

“What the hell—“ you hear him exclaim from the other side of your bedroom door. You’re quickly up, exiting your room while rubbing goose flesh from your arms.

“Dad, what’s wrong—“

“Go get your phone and dial 911,”

Your hands trembled and your heartbeat felt fast as you ran back to your room and grabbed your phone from where it lay on the bedside table. As soon as you were back in the hall, your father snatched the phone from your hands.

“I want to report a house fire at my neighbours; there is a crashed vehicle and a burning house. My address is 1357 Birchwood Crescent—what attacks? No— It’s just a housefire—“ You could hear the operator’s voice between your dad’s pauses as you stood next to him by the window. The Kelvin’s house was completely engulfed, it looked like the explosion might have been the car.

“I don’t understand; what do you mean I have to go to a quarantine shelter? —You need to tell me what my family isn’t safe from!” The lady’s voice rose high through the phone as she told your father the urgency of evacuating your house. You felt cold, frozen to the spot. All you could see was fire. Not just the Kelvin’s; smoke rose from other parts of the suburbs, thick and dark.

* * *

“If the first responders are telling us to leave, then we’re leaving.” Your mother said firmly from behind you. You hadn’t heard her leave her bedroom, she was already half-dressed pulling you from your stupor and instructing you to grab two pairs of clothes and necessities to put in an overnight bag.

You could hear your father repeating instructions which meant that he was writing them down. Your heart beat faster, and your teeth began to chatter. Was the smoke seeping into the locked windows? You felt as if you could taste it on your tongue. No, the windows are supposed to be locked because the air conditioner is on you told yourself. You packed half your underwear drawer in an old grey gym bag, with two shirts and a pair of jeans. You threw on your hoodie as you grabbed your charger from the side table. Your mom was in the bathroom packing a toiletry kit for the three of you.

“What did they say?” You heard her ask your dad.

“More deadly and faster spreading than SARS.” He muttered to her, they were talking as if they didn’t want you to hear.

“How do they know if someone’s infected, what are the symptoms?” Your mom was a veterinarian.

“I have no idea, Lilian!” He sounded somewhat panicked. “Let’s just get to this quarantine shelter.” He sounded really rattled already.

“Where are all the neighbours?” You asked as the three of you loaded into the SUV. The Kelvin’s house melted the siding off of the Mirza’s house, but not a single person was to be seen. It was impossible to tell from far away if there was a corpse in the destroyed car.

“They’re probably already at the shelter.” Your mom said as she reached back and brushed her hand against your knee in reassurance. She was lying. How could it only be your family that failed to evacuate. There were cars outside of some people’s homes; they hadn’t evacuated, should they be warned? On College Street, you saw a group of people walking in the street. It was only when your mother drove past them that you saw they were carrying shotguns, but surely they weren’t police or military.

“Is our stuff safe, you think?” Your mom asked your dad.

“Anything of any value is in the safe, and we have insurance if they want to take anything else.” He told her, his voice was calm but he was clenching his fists until they paled from the passenger seat. You passed three burning houses by the time you reached the shelter.

Outside the shelter stood makeshift looking barricades. Almost as if they had run out of proper barricades when putting them up.

You craned your neck but didn’t see anyone, but you noticed a trail of blood leading up the steps into the community shelter.

“This feels wrong,” Your mom remarked as your father began to get out of the car. He stopped and squinted at something lying on the ground behind a barricade. It was a body. You felt sick. Its leg moved; the person was still alive.

“Stay here,” your mother told you as she quickly exited the car and trotted towards the person lying on the ground, your dad following her a little more cautiously. Your heart beat in your throat, you gripped the door handle as your body felt alight with a strange electricity. Your mom knelt on the ground next to the body just as a shrill screech reached all your ears as the door to the shelter opened and out stumbled a young screaming woman...with a person grabbing her and ripping and tearing with their teeth at her neck. This was no normal person: they were bloody about the neck, their wrist dangled awkwardly as if was broken, and their eyes...were pale and the pupils were constricted. It was the humanoid monster of nightmares and horror movies. The body your parents were near twitched again, but their eyes were on the screaming woman. They didn’t see as the body began to move and sit up...

“MOM!” You screamed as you threw the door of the car open, unable to take your eyes off the scene that unfolded in front of you. Your mom turned as the corpse grabbed her, but your father slammed his foot down on the creature’s chest allowing your mom to get to her feet as its teeth sunk into your father’s leg. His screams joined the young woman’s until it was just his as she lost the battle on the concrete steps. The creature seemed to only gain power the more your dad fought back. A scream burned your throat as more zombies stumbled out of the building and your mom turned to run towards the car. Your father now suffered a bite on the hand and forearm to match the one on his leg. He was a bad fighter; your mother pushed you into the car as she reached you but stood there frozen with tears welling in her eyes as she watched her husband fall to his knees.

“GO!” He yelled to her “I love y—“ his arm gave out and the zombie was able to sink its teeth into him. Your mom got into the driver's seat, her breathing was ragged but she swallowed her sobs as she sped off. You climbed from the back into the passenger seat, catching one final glimpse as the young woman’s head was bashed repeatedly against the concrete.

“We’re going to the clinic to get supplies.” Your mother said in the most controlled voice she could muster. Your breath was caught in your chest, but you didn’t think you could breathe without crying. It was all too fast. _Please wake up, this isn’t real_, you told yourself.

Your mom’s work was near and she sped into the parking lot to the back door of the clinic.

“What do we do?” You asked, finally swallowing your sobs and letting the adrenaline from fear take hold.

“Kate’s car is here,” she said after a long moment, tears still ran down her cheeks but she made no move to wipe them. “She worked the night shift, but it looks like no one ever came into work this morning. I’m not sure what we’re going to find in there,” Your mom turned to you and took your hands in hers. “You have to promise me that if I tell you to run if I tell you to leave me; that you will.” Your chest swelled with sadness at her words, while fear ate at your stomach. You nodded.

“You have to run back here and get in this car and get away. Home should still be safe, but I don’t know how much longer power will be on—if it’s still on with all those burning houses. Don’t try and run the generator; it’s too loud and you don’t know what it might attract.” She stroked your face and your eyes welled with tears at the particular gesture of affection that you hadn’t received in years.

The coast was clear as you exited the car, and you both crept to the back door as she pulled out her key. The clinic was dark, except for emergency lighting.

“Batteries,” Your mom whispered to you. You assumed she was referring to the electricity. You listened for...anything, at first only your breathing registered but soon you heard faint growls. Cats and dogs brought to the clinic for treatment or pet sitting stood gnashing their teeth on their cages at you, their zombie eyes glowing.

“How did they..?” You gasp.

“Shh—“ Your mother holds her hand up and turns her head as if she heard something. You held your breath to hear a sound—a shuffle of feet on the floor and then ragged breathing. Your mom’s eyes widened and she pushed you to move and then pulled you into an operating room with her. She found a flashlight and an ACVIM duffle in a cabinet. She quietly and efficiently began to fill it with bandages and syringes from cabinets and drawers.

We’ll have to—“ she stopped as she turned towards the door: Kate stood in the door. Or, what was left of kate; her skin was pale but the veins looked constricted against her skin and her too light eyes looked around the room...until she focused on both of you. She moved towards you faster than the movies had prepared you for, gnashing her teeth and letting out an ugly growl.

“Y/N, move!” Your mother yelled, and as you stepped back and tripped over a table just as you saw your mom grab something with both hands out of the corner of your eye. Kate rushed towards your standing mother, as your mom swung the moving surgical light and turned it on to shine directly at Kate as she kicked her square in the chest. The zombie stumbled back and you could clamber to your feet, picking up an object that had fallen from the table you had tripped over. Kate rushed at you, and you let out a loud cry as you copied your mother’s movements and kicked her back, but not hard enough as Kate was suddenly all you could feel and her strength surprised you. You escaped her grip for a moment and you kicked at her again with all your might—this time giving you enough time to stab the object in your hand into her eye. For a fraction of a second, the zombie stood there with surgical scissors protruding from her head and you realized your defencelessness. She quickly slumped to the floor, looking more dead than anyone had the right to. Once you saw what you had done you broke down into tears as your mom hugged you. Your heart was racing as your mom pulled you from the operation room and into a room filled with shelves lined with small boxes. She grabs at least six penicillin bottles and stuffs them into the duffle on top of the bandages.

“This is doxycycline,” she whispers to you, holding boxes near your face for you to see. “It’s an antibiotic, and it can be used to treat Lyme disease, malaria, UTI...I’ll write you out a list,”

“Mom, why are you telling me this?” You cry, clutching at her.

“If anything happens—to me—I have to know that you can take care of yourself. I’m doing all of this for you; I need to know that you have a chance!”

Day 3: September 11, Journal entry

Cassy said yesterday the campus was overrun with...them. Cell service has cut out completely

Update at 4:33 PM: Mom gone

Day 4: September 12

Home is no longer safe. You cradle the camping radio to your chest, the broadcast you had been listening to this morning had kept cutting out. The looting and civilian violence had reached a peak, they said..._but you already knew that, didn’t you?_

A gunshot rang in your head, it sounded just as it had the first time, but tears were no longer able to prick at your eyes. You were hidden in a closet with a false back, rocking your body with your knees in tight against you.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you whisper to yourself; when you close your eyes you can hear her scream. Time feels as if it has lost meaning, despite the battery clock that boldly states the time. You shift your legs and bump the sword you keep with you. A decorative piece; it had formally hung over the mantle. You can hear footsteps in your house, and the soft voices of two women. They’re downstairs and you strain your ears to hear them...you don’t hear drawers opening, or belongings being rummaged through. You just hear them systematically going into every room. It’s quite for a minute—you hold your breath until you hear a familiar creak: _they’re almost at the top of the stairs_. One of the women yelps.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you hear someone say. A lump forms in your throat; your mom, they had found her in her room. There’s a scurrying of footsteps down the hallway, as someone quickly dashes by the closet you are hidden in. You hear your room opened,

“Y/N?” A voice calls softly, your heart skips a beat. They repeat your name again, louder as you can hear them open your bedroom closet.

“Is she not here?” The other girl’s voice asks.

“But she was...she was here just yesterday. What if someone took her—“ her voice crescendoed to a hysterical pitch.

“—We still haven’t looked everywhere! Is there a basement, what about the garage?” The other woman’s voice replied.

“Y/N hated the basement here,” they were now in the hallway again.

“Lou!” You exclaim as you recognize her voice.

“Y/N!” She cries out and the other voice shushes her “Oh my god, where are you?” Lou calls out as she runs back to your room. You slip out from behind of false wall and stumble out of the closet into fierce daylight. Soon you’re enveloped in your childhood best friend’s arm’s.

“What are you doing here?” You ask Lou, wiping tears away as they fall with your sleeve.

“After we lost service...I just had to find you. So many people stopped texting back a couple days ago, but I knew you were still here...and I just couldn’t give up.”

You look at the unfamiliar girl she’s with, her hair is short and she has two knives strapped to her waist.

“This is Mallory,” Lou says.

Mallory offers her hand out to you as one corner of her mouth lifts up into a grim half-smile. You shake her outstretched hand, unfazed for a moment with the familiar action despite the irregular situation.

“How did you get here?” You ask them.

“We have a car,” Mallory replies as she inspects the closet you were in.

“You’re going to come with us, aren’t you?” Lou says to you quietly. You swallow the lump in your throat. _Leaving home_. You didn’t feel ready, but you also knew you couldn’t stay here and it had already proven to be unsafe.

“Get your stuff,” Mallory instructs, grabbing a fleece blanket from the closet “Can I take this?” She asks holding the blanket up. You nod to her.

“Lou,” you say under your breath and stop her with your hand as she walks away. “Do you trust her?” You ask with a slight nod towards Mallory.

“Yes, and...there aren’t a lot of trustworthy people left.” Lou tells you. How could the world go to pieces in a matter of days? How could society crumble that quickly?

“I think our car is still here,” you tell Lou “And I have a box if food.”

“Load it with anything useful.” Mallory instructs the two of you in the garage “we’ll all split up between the two vehicles.”

You quickly learn their group is made up of 7 people, 8 now including you. You load a baseball bat, your sword, a box of food that you had kept in the closet with you, and camping equipment. The cupboards in your kitchen are bare; looted by multiple already. They had even stolen toothpaste from the upstairs bathroom. You keep your personal belongings in a backpack now, and you clutch the ACVIM duffle filled with medical supplies tightly.

The gas tank in your small SUV is full, but Mallory loads a small empty gas canister from a shelf into the back.

“In case we find a place to get gas somewhere.”

“We had full ones for the lawnmower...” you say, but they are nowhere to be found.

“It’s okay,” Lou comforted you as you looked around your house one last time “Is there anything else you wanted?” You thought of your mom upstairs.

“No,” you had to leave, you couldn’t stay here alone with a corpse to be driven mad and starve to death.

You recognize the guy driving the small car packed with people parked outside your house as Lou’s boyfriend, Seth.

“Mal, we gotta get going,” he says out the window.

“I’m going to drive with Y/N,” Mallory tells him. Lou hugs you before getting into the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s car.

“I’m coming with you guys,” a slim guy with dark hair says as he walks past you and climbs into the back seat.

“That’s Doyoung,” Mallory tells you with a slight purse of her lips.

_______________________________

“Damn, how did no one steal this car? This is way better than being squished into that tin can of Seth’s.” Is all Doyoung says before he gently rummages through belongings and supplies in the back. Mallory plays with the radio, trying to get any station to come in.

“I think a lot of their receivers are down, or no longer have any battery power.” Mallory simply nods her head and you drive in silence. Dread rises within you, hunger pangs play havoc with your stomach: but you focus on Seth’s license plate in front of you, following it diligently. You pass charred houses, wrecked cars, homes and buildings that look quiet and untouched. Does true life reside in any of these places? You are aware of Doyoung and Mallory looking out the windows as you drive, how much of this had they already seen? You try and think how long your box of food might last between 8 people—not long. You clear your throat,

“Where are we going?” Your question was met with silence for a few moments before Doyoung finally replied.

“Seth knows a place that should be pretty safe until we can get to one of the emergency centres. They’re all far away from here, so who knows if we can actually make it that far.”

“So there are places that are safe and untouched?” You ask, glancing in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of him.

“Well, maybe not _untouched_, but supposedly safe.”

There are abandoned cars on the highway, their drivers nowhere to be seen. You drive through a small town where zombies wander the streets. After 4 hours you are on backcountry roads, or so it feels even though you are near a highway. Your stomach cramps, anxiety eating away at you. Mallory didn’t talk much in the car, she only put some music on and silently cried in the passenger seat.

Day 5: September 13, Journal Entry

I am in the middle of nowhere in a country cabin with Lou and her friends. The girl I share a room with, Mallory, just cries all the time when we’re alone. I don’t know why and I’m afraid to ask. Mina had my camp radio working for a few minutes last night. There is wood here and we are able to have fires at night to stay warm and cook canned soup.

Day 6: September 14

“No, hold it like this—yeah, okay now...aim...” Doyoung is teaching you how to use his bow and arrow. “Are you aiming at the middle pillow?” He says in an annoyed voice.

“Yes, I just really suck at this.” You retort as he pulls the arrow from the bottom pillow for the umpteenth time.

“It’s fine, just...try again.” Dark half-moons are below his eyes. You miss the pillows completely this time, and Mina makes and audible disparaging judgment from behind you. You trot to retrieve the arrow in shame, glancing at the dark-haired girl as she leans against Seth’s car while inhaling from her cigarette.

“One more, and then you can try again tomorrow.” Doyoung tells you, ignoring Mina as she stares at him intently. You hit the bottom pillow again.

Day 10: September 18

“Are we just gonna fucking sit here!? We have barely any food—warm blankets are only gonna keep us alive for so long. We gotta make a fucking effort to survive; or I’m out!” Kevin yelled at Seth. They were face to face, noses almost brushing. Mallory broke in between, trying to reason with their tempers.

“Kevin is right, we need to be more self-sustainable. Or...make a trip to a grocery store—you know, one that hasn’t been totally emptied.” She crosses her arms over her chest. You think of small towns teeming with zombies.

“I’ll go,” Doyoung immediately steps forward.

“So will I,” Mina quips.

“And me.” Mallory says uncrossing her arms and instinctively brushing the handles of her knives.

“I want to go, too.” You finally say, breaking your silence for the first time of the day.

“We’ll make teams.” Kevin tells Seth, “I want Doyoung with me—“

“No,” Doyoung cuts Kevin off and grabs a knife from the table. Lou yelps as she leaps up from her chair. Doyoung ignores Lou’s reaction as he kneels and places the knife on the floor. “Everyone who’s coming, get in a circle.”

Six of you form a circle around the knife.

“We’ll pair up in twos.” Says Mallory as Doyoung nods and sets the knife spinning. It stops with the blade pointing at Seth first, and after Doyoung spins it again it points at Mallory.

“So, Seth and Mallory are team 1: you’ll go in first and clear the way. Mina and Kevin it’s up to you to do the collecting of goods as team 2, and Y/N and I will follow up and protect you from behind as team 3.”

Day 11: September 19

The rain is heavy as the six of you load into the SUV, weapons in hand, in the morning. You’re thankful the rain is still warm. Kevin and Seth sit up front, their egos colliding with every rock of the vehicle on the dirt road. Doyoung crouches in the very back grasping his bow with one hand.

The first place you stop is a deserted gas station. It’s already been well looted: a pack of gum on the floor, likely dropped as someone was making a quick exit, and a jug of water are the only finds. It’s time to move on to more populated places and bigger stores. The sign on the outskirts of town boasts that it’s home to 3 thousand people, you can’t help but wonder what condition you might find them in.

The street is thankfully deserted, the glass doors of the store already shattered.

“Shouldn’t someone stay with the car?” Mina asks as everyone prepares to exit with bags and weapons in hand. Doyoung rolls his eyes as he turns to her.

“Yeah, why don’t you just stay here; it’s not like you really wanted to come anyway.” He snapped. Mallory glared at Doyoung for a second as she secured a thick scarf around her neck.

“What the hell am I supposed to do if I don’t have a helper?” Says Kevin.

“We’ll all help out,” Seth speaks loud and with finality as you pass him his axe from the backseat. Kevin had helped you sharpen your sword, and you and Lou had practiced with straight sticks together. Glass crunched under Mallory and Seth’s feet as they stepped into the store, Kevin following them closely with his baseball bat and a small lump in his jacket pocket that was most likely a revolver. Doyoung holds you back,

“How many zombies have you fought?” He asks quietly.

“Um...” you feel inexperienced, embarrassed by your lack of encounters, “One.”

“Oh,” Doyoung’s expression doesn’t fall, but you hear a note of disappointment in his voice. “How many have you killed?”

“One,”

Doyoung smiles at your short reply.

“Okay, then let’s go.” And he rushes after the others, with you following close at his heels.

The smell that greets you inside the store is enough to make you gag: spoiled food, rotting meat. The air is thick with the sound of insects. Mallory’s knives are out, but no living or undead are to be seen. You clasp your sword with two hands, ready to swing at the slightest sign of movement. Kevin opens his mouth to talk but his words are choked back with a violent gag. Five pairs of feet tread forward lightly across the dirty floor. Dead fly carcasses crunch beneath boots and sneakers. The grey sky lets in very little light through the high windows. In aisle 2 from the front Mallory lets out a muffled cry, and you and Doyoung quickly turn to see a dark shape on the ground. Mallory appears to have stepped on it and her hands are clamped over her mouth. Seth takes out his flashlight and the small beam illuminates the body on the floor: the skull has been smashed open, the face is near gone, and maggots writhe in the festering glory of their banquet. Your stomach turns at the sight and the putrid smell overwhelms you. The shelves are bare, and you all move on.

“Jackpot,” Kevin whispers when he spots two bags of sugar in the baking aisle.

“Great, I can’t wait to sit down to a nice nourishing bowl of sugar.” Doyoung said sarcastically under his breath.

“Well it’s the first thing we found, asshole.” Kevin retorts, angrily zipping up his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Would you both shut up?” Mallory mumbles through the scarf up over her mouth and nose. You spare a glance at Doyoung, his hair hangs just above his eyes and his mouth is set in a hard straight line. Seth trips over a cardboard stand advertising plastic measuring cups and the cups go clattering across the floor. It sounds loud in the hushed store. You clench your sword until your knuckles turn pale, holding your breath and listening. Doyoung looked at you and brought a finger to his lips, hushing you as he peeked around the corner. He motioned you to come to him and peak around the corner towards the back of the store. A zombie shuffled down the main wide aisle, searching for the source of the noise. Or maybe simply doing its daily rounds.

“We got one,” Doyoung whispered to the group, readying his bow. “I’m going to try and take it out quietly.”

Doyoung stepped brazenly from the aisle into the path of the zombie, and you stood at his back to defend him while he aimed. The zombie growls at the sight of the two of you, but you turn your back trusting in Doyoung despite hearing it grow nearer. A little ping and millisecond whoosh: you heard a body drop to the ground, skin smacking against the floor. The arrow stuck clean out of the zombie’s eye. You grinned in relief, following your partner as he went to retrieve his weapon. Doyoung reloaded his bow while walking towards the zombie on the floor, another stepped out of a side aisle—arms outstretched as it grabs him. Doyoung recoils in its grip, making a noise of repulsion. The zombie’s mouth opens revealing a mouth of missing and greying teeth, adrenaline courses through you as you lay in a kick on her ribs—instinct telling you to fight as you had before—swinging your sword as Doyoung slipped from her grip: severing her head from her body. You stepped back in shock and horror as her body fell towards you, dead, her head rolling in the aisle to reveal a bloody patch on the side of her skull. She has once been like you, but now her hair was matted with blood; likely her own from her struggle for life.

Doyoung breathed heavily as he removed the arrow from the other corpse.

“Nicely done,” Kevin whispered as you rejoined them, his breath against your skin made the hair on your neck stand up.

You discover two boxes of spaghetti, and Doyoung finds a dented can of crushed pineapple rolled under a shelf. As you pass the formerly refrigerated meat section you feel dizzy from the stench, cupping your mouth to keep from upheaving the precious food you can’t waste. Mallory’s knife throwing skills are put into action as she and Doyoung take three undead down as quietly as possible.

“There’s one down that aisle,” Seth whispers “Should we take care of it?”

Doyoung shoots it in the back of the head; never gaining its attention, and Seth backs him up as he goes to pull the arrow from the dead man’s skull. Your ears prick at every noise, listening for a scurry or shuffle from the next aisle.

“I can’t believe that’s it.” Seth says, inaudibly sighing.

“What about the storage room?” You ask. You know where it is, you noticed the doors earlier in a dark back corner of the store. Everyone seems to hesitate: it’s as far from the car as possible, and what awaits beyond those doors is unknown.

“We have to try it,” Doyoung finally backs you up, “We either die today, or die from starvation.”

It’s pitch black in the storage room, a cloth is over each of your flashlights to keep them dim. You are not the first person to think to look here, but the warehouse-like shelves are not bare as they are in the rest of the store. The sound of swarming insects is less so in here, but you have the gnawing sense that the five of you are not alone. Boxes of canned soup, bags of rice, KD, breakfast cereal, granola bars—and more are here. They are in large quantities, still packaged by the case: they prove difficult to carry and impossible to defend yourself with. Mallory begins to cut open cases as she packs each of your backpacks when you hear a growl behind you. It’s close, but you can’t see it. Can it see you, do zombies have night vision? You turn to where the sound came from, grasping your sword as you stare into the darkness. Fear rises within you; this is not like before and your blindness makes you feel defenseless. Something white emerges from the darkness—a white coat—and then you can see the pale eyes as the fingers reach for you in a quick lurch forward. You swing, hitting its arm but it’s undeterred: you are backing up, stabbing at a fleshy abdomen—blood runs as if it’s fresh. You are backing away as quickly as it comes at you, unable to get far enough away to swing your weapon.

“Move!”

You duck just in time as an axe lodges itself into the skull of the zombie, clear splitting it in half. Seth grabs you and pulls you up,

“Did it bite you, are you okay?” Seth’s hands are rough as they examine you and Kevin’s flashlight pours over your face and arms for injury.

“No, I’m fine, it didn’t touch me.” You push Seth’s hands away, and Doyoung brings him his bloodied axe.

“We have to get out of here,” says Kevin.

“Can we really leave all if this?” Doyoung gestures to the food, “Shouldn’t we make more trips?”

“Doyoung is right, we can’t just leave with this much.” Mallory adds.

“We need to find another way out, there has to be an exit from this part—“ Seth looks around, but you are all slightly disoriented. You can hear something; a gnashing of teeth, a shoe against smooth cement. There is an exit sign, still illuminated, above the swinging doors you came in. Your backpack slows you down, you can’t help think that any zombie is likely to be just as fast as you are now. Kevin and Mallory can defend themselves with one hand, and each carries a gallon jug of water with them from the warehouse. You feel sick with dread as the pasta in your backpack makes noise with every step. You and Doyoung walk backward through the store back to the front doors.

Mina is sitting in the car, her face is pale and her jaw seems unable to unclench even as she unlocks the doors for you. Hastily, the food is dumped out in the back.

“Drive around to the back of the store.” Seth tells Mina.

“What! Why?”

“There has to be a door back there, we’ll go in that way.” Seth turns to the rest of you, before grimly stating: “It might be locked from the outside, which means some of us will have to go back through again.”

He’s staring at Doyoung, Doyoung’s fingers grasp the back of the seat tightly.

“I’ll go, but only if you come with me.” His chin sharply juts out at Seth.

“Okay,” Seth agrees, “And you?” His gaze shifts to you.

You desperately don’t want to, but you find yourself nodding in agreement.

There are two zombies right as you walk in this time; Doyoung doesn’t waste his time as you and Seth handle them. Doyoung’s feet are quite as he quickly leads the three of you back to the dark corner of the store and into the warehouse.

“We have to find the side of the building,” Doyoung whispers.

“Is that a light over there?” You whisper back, pointing to the other end of the space where a small shadow of green light can just be seen.

Seth was right; the small service door can only be opened from the inside. Outside the SUV awaits with the rest of your group.

“Are there zombies in there?” Mina asks.

“At least one, I heard it earlier.” You say to her.

The light the door lets in is a gift, you feel less caged in and defenseless. Mina never leaves the driver’s seat as the rest of you load the car.

“There’s more than one,” Mallory says running back with jugs of water.

A guttural growl reaches your ears as a zombie stumbles into the doorway—Mallory is too close to throw her knives. She strikes out with right hand, but the zombie grabs and stops her arm—you rush forwards as Mina yelps, sword raised, but Mallory brings up her left hand and plunges her other knife into the zombie’s eye. The boys come running with cases in hand.

“We gotta go, get in now!” Kevin shouts as Doyoung pushes you and Mallory into the backseat and he clambers in behind you. Mina starts the engine as Seth gets in the passenger seat and Kevin closes the trunk door before pushing you all over in the backseat as he gets in. The door is barely closed when Mina steps on the gas, mud spraying from the tires as she pulls away. In the rearview mirror you can see zombie exit the service door before it can close: he’s easily 7 feet tall, and extremely muscular.

______________________________

The car ride home is in silence. Exhaustion sweeps over you, but you feel too on edge to relax or ever sleep again.

Your legs feel shaky as you climb out when you reach the cabin. A hand reaches out to steady you, it’s Doyoung:

“I want to thank you,” he begins quietly.

“For what?” You furrow your brows at him.

“For saving my life.”

Mallory’s scream pulls your eyes away from Doyoung’s. Lou crawls and writhes on the porch, her teeth gnash and her curls bounce with every twist and turn of her neck. Another scream as Erica comes out of the cabin, her eyes turning pale as an unknown zombie still feasts and tears at her neck. Lou sees all of you and she stands up with a hideous growling cry and rushes forward—a gunshot rings out and she falls.

You drop as you see your friend fall to the ground, you feel sick and dizzy. A cry of a man is followed by two more shots. All you can feel is Doyoung’s hands lifting you trying to get you to stand, and your heartbeat pounding in your ears


	2. Chapter II

Day 14: September 22

The sun tried to peek out from behind a cloud as you washed the suds out of your hair into the water. The stream carried the foams away until it ran clear again. Your skin prickled from the cold water, you could feel rocks and pebbles between your toes on the creek bed. You watch Mallory dunk below the water surface, and Mina watches you both from the shore as she inhales deeply from her last cigarette. A bow and a quiver of arrows rest in the grass next to her. Water rolls off your bare skin in beads dripping onto the grass and then being absorbed into the towel Mina hands you, which you secure to protect what little modesty you have left. Mina slowly finishes her cigarette while you dress, before she undresses and joins Mallory in the water. You stand alert with your sword, the bow lying at your feet because you are not yet skilled enough to use it. …Despite Doyoung’s daily efforts.

One foot in front of the other, mechanical movement nothing more. Some of the grass is yellowing among the other green blades you notice while trodding back to the house. You were alone amongst strangers, not a friend or loved one left in the world. Or if they were, you didn’t know about them. Mallory and Mina walk back side by side, arms brushing as they sway with each step. Mallory had moved out of your room to be with Mina earlier that day. Even though you were with people you felt more alone than ever. Doyoung sat on the porch steps, his eyes closed and the golden Autumn sun shining upon his face. Voices raised in an argument came from within the cabin. Every day they shout at each other, sometimes an object goes sailing at someone’s head. Seth refuses to have meals with Kevin, refuses to scavenge with Kevin: he calls him a _murderer_.

“If it weren’t for me, you might be dead! It’s like you wanted your little girlfriend to kill us all.” Kevin’s words sound harsh,

…But is there some truth behind them? Three zombies seemed manageable, but had Lou come after you would you have been able to kill her? Was Kevin’s ability to put any personal feelings aside a positive trait that had possibly saved all your lives.

“Oh my god, I can’t listen to them like this anymore.” Mina angrily purses her lips as she runs up the porch steps and yanks the door open.

Three voices yelling now, and the sound of a chair being loudly dragged on the floor.

“Ah, yes, that’s an improvement.” Mallory sarcastically quips, though her tone is despondent.

Doyoung rests his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. Mallory’s eyes begin to water and her head drops as tears stream down her face, before she too runs up the steps and into the cabin. Her voice does not join the others, and you think it likely that she has gone to her room.

“Why does she always cry?” You ask Doyoung quietly.

He doesn’t look up at you when he shrugs his shoulders in response.

———————————————————————-

Day 15: September 23rd

_Journal Entry_

I sit in the woods. Hiding from my housemates now. I feel alone and in the way. If a zombie came and jumped me now, I might just let it do what was natural for it without putting up a fight. But I think of that and feel that I don’t _want_ death, and I feel guilty for not trying hard enough when my parents died to protect me. Must I go on for them until I find the strength to go on for myself?

I wonder if my disappearance has been noticed. I feel sick thinking about anyone coming out to find me. I don’t understand why we haven’t tried to move on to find one of the safe places. I don’t even know where they are, but it just feels like we’re rotting here.

Last night Kevin drank the last of a bottle scotch that was in the cabin when we came. I met him while I was going downstairs and he was staggering up them to go to bed. He said he was upset about Lou and Erica but he felt ostracized and like we all hated him now. He was crying. And I hated it. He cried as he thanked me for listening to him and then told me that he thought I was beautiful. And I hated it. I just wanted to be nice, and make him feel like he wasn’t all alone like I feel, but he kissed me…and I hated that too. I don’t think he remembers kissing me last night, at least I hope not.

Yesterday late afternoon a zombie came wandering near the cabin. I wonder where they’re coming from.

I hear something

———————————————————-

Day 15: September 23rd

“What the hell were you thinking!?”

You closed your journal quickly, a blush rising to your cheeks in shame. Doyoung’s breath was uneven as though he had been running, and he looked extremely annoyed.

“It’s dangerous to go off by yourself! We don’t know what’s—“

“I wanted to be alone.” You said curtly, standing up and brushing plant matter from your clothes.

Doyoung remained quiet as you tucked your journal under your shirt and partly into the waistband of your pants. He stared at the ground, his feet uncomfortably toying with long grass next to the flattened spot where you had been sitting. It looked as if a deer had slept there.

The two of you walked in silence, eyes surveying your surroundings and nerves waiting in anticipation for you to jump into action. It was beautiful here; just trees and fields, little animal paths disappearing into the undergrowth.

“I thought you had run away,” Doyoung finally breaks the silence.

You don’t say anything at first, watching as your ankles and calves disappear in the tall grass with each step. You wanted to run away: just take the car and go. But, _where?_ What was beyond here, was it just more of what you had left behind. And if it was: did you want to see it and face it on your own?

“Would you prefer the life of a vagabond or a hermit?” You stop and watch as he stops a few steps ahead.

Doyoung turns to you, he’s not frowning but his face is set in a grim look that he wears daily. He looks around before looking at you, he switches his bow from his right to the left hand, his eyes soften when they meet yours.

“Well, a hermit I guess—for the long term, but a vagabond could be okay for a bit. I want to really LIVE, you know? I’ve never felt like this before, but I feel like I can _survive_ and more importantly I _want to_.”

——————————————————————

Day 18: September 26th

Your bow skills have improved to be just above abysmal, but Doyoung is persistent with his lessons.

“You really suck at it, huh?” Mina says as she takes the bow away from you just as you’re packing up to go in because of the fading light.

“Yep,” You dryly reply, pursing your lips as she aims and looses an arrow that cleanly strikes the target.

“Took me a year to hit a bullseye,” She nudges you, handing back the bow with what may qualify as a smile from her.

Mina’s dark hair falls past her shoulders, half pulled back to keep it out of her face. Dark circles under her eyes tell of her nightly struggles, and her shoulders slouch under an invisible weight. You see Seth up ahead, kneeling beside recently turned soil. As you and Mina draw nearer, the graves of the two lost come into focus. Stones rudely carved serve as gravestones; they are irregular in size and colour, but each is decorated with a wreath of grass and wildflowers.

“Look,” You say pointing and reaching out to Mina.

A solitary figure is visible in the distant field, stumbling and disoriented: a zombie. Where they wander from you don’t know. If they have a special sense to know where to find you, you don’t know. Yet they come; wander from near or distant in search of a beating heart, of a conscious brain. You and Mina crouch in the grass as you make your way nearer, never gaining its attention.

“Do you want to do it?” Mina asks when you’re both close enough for the shot.

“No, you should.” You whisper to her, handing over the bow.

Mina’s movements are fluid, her fingers deft and her eyes piercing.

“Ooh, nearly missed,” she says as the body slumps to the ground.

——————————————————————-

Day 21: September 29th

A wolf howls. A lonesome wavering note followed by another deeper howl. It did not crescendo into a pack of howling wolves, but the sound did build in a typical dream-like way. The wolf was running, its footsteps heavy and loud mixed with another sound—a strange thick howl—

Hands were shaking you, trying to wake you quickly while a scream stuck in your throat.

“You have to get your stuff, we have to leave: quickly!”

It’s Doyoung pulling you out of bed and grabbing your things to stuff in your hands. They are not the footsteps of a wolf, but the footsteps of people.

“Where the FUCK ARE THEY,” someone yells from somewhere in the cabin.

You stuff everything you own into your backpack, slipping your shoes on and grabbing your sword from the bed. Doyoung’s silhouette is distinguishable in the low light, his head turned to hear what is happening outside of your room. You here a crash followed by glass shattering and an angry yell.

“Mina and Mallory are gone,” Doyoung whispers to you as he grabs your ACVIM medical bag to swing over his shoulder.

“No,” You say to him in disbelief.

You are frozen, your heart drops: _they left you_. You feel sick and you want to cry at the prospect of being left alone with Kevin, Seth, and Doyoung.

“We don’t have time to lose,” Doyoung pulls you out from your room “Load as many supplies into your—“

A growl and aggressive yell that you both know far too well reaches your ears. Your eyes meet his, both understanding that at least one had found you again.

“Get to the car,” Doyoung says as he shoves your duffle back into your arms.

You follow him downstairs watching as he loads his bow while running. _”Mina and Mallory are gone.” gone. Gone…gone_ were they dead? Had they run away.

Your limbs feel numb and weightless but you know your feet move quickly. Thoughts seem to go through your head at a lightning-fast pace—you slip on the floor. There’s something wet on the floor but you don’t dare stop to find out what it is. Your heart pounds in your ears and the sounds of fighting are muffled. The night is pitch black and you spare a glance at the austere stars in the sky. They are not really suns you suddenly think; they offer no warmth or light, they are uncaring strangers visible only during the most vulnerable hours. You will not find help in this darkness.

The key has remained safely on your person in an inside pocket, gasping as the overhead light blinds you when you open the door. You hope no nefarious thing in the darkness saw it, you thought once you had managed to shut it off. You lock your bags back inside the vehicle. You turn back to the cabin—it seems much brighter than before, a glow emanating from some of the windows. Your ears listen for a nearby rustle, groan, or breath…any sign that you are not alone. You nearly jump as the doors of the porch burst open: Kevin and Seth yelling as they pull bags and boxes out of the cabin. Fire: that’s the glow coming from the windows. They are grabbing and taking out all the supplies to save them from the fire.

“Where the hell are you coming from?” Seth barks when he spots you.

“I was out making sure there were no more zombies.” You lie. Doyoung is nowhere to be seen, but they don’t ask you further.

“Come and help me—“ Kevin pulls Seth back into the cabin. The entire living room appears to be engulfed and the upstairs barely accessible.

Your limbs feel less weightless as you carry all the supplies away from the burning cabin. You can’t keep track of thoughts at all as dread fills you, unsure of whether you’re all leaving or what happened to Doyoung.

_“I feel like I can survive and more importantly I want to.”_

No, you were leaving: alone or with them. You glance behind you, making sure no one was looking, before hurrying with a heavy box of cans to the car. Kevin and Seth return, dropping what looks like a camping tent on the ground. The crackling of the fire is louder now and you hear the tinkle of glass breaking.

A yell pierces the night air: Doyoung. It sounds like it came from the other side of the cabin.

“Stay here and keep watch!” Orders are shouted at you as they both run off. The cabin pyre must soon be attracting everything in a two-mile radius.

Tears of fear or maybe smoke stings your eyes and you risk another trip to the car. You could leave now; what were you waiting for? _Just get in the car and go_. A feeling in your stomach made you stay…at least you should try to take more supplies if you really intended to leave. You ran back to the supply pile, you catch movement out of the corner your eye in a thicket of trees. A breath catches in your throat, your tongue tastes of smoke as you peer through the darkness looking for the source of the movement.

You abandon your post, the only sounds being the fire and your heavy breathing. Are they still alive, or are you waiting for no one? You grip your sword with both hands you creep around the burning structure, waiting for movement…waiting for rotting hands to reach out for you.

You come across a body, your stomach flip flops but you don’t recognize the mass on the ground. Movement; it takes you a moment to distinguish the upper body of a zombie pulling its torso along the ground. It’s fifteen feet away but it raises a pitiful hand at the sight of you, reaching out to a hopeful victim. Anger bubbles up within you: this _thing_ had ruined your life, this was why everyone you knew was dead, this was why you were alone and scared stranded in the middle of nowhere. Large strides, your mouth forming curses that your tongue does not utter: what was once a young teenager hideously bites and growls at you—before you rid them of their head. You wipe a fallen tear away—braces were on their teeth. They were as much to blame for all of this as you, you didn’t want to think of their last moments of life or how they had already come to lose half of their body.

You hear voices and run towards them. It’s Seth and Kevin, your heart drops as Doyoung is nowhere to be seen. They don’t see you, and you grimace as a huge zombie nearly manages to knock the baseball bat out of Kevin’s hands. He looks stunned and partially trips and for a second you think it might be all over for him before his friend’s ax comes to rescue as it embeds itself into the zombie’s skull. The corpse drops in front of Kevin and he scrambles to his feet and away from it.

“Thanks, man” Kevin turns to Seth, his hand outstretched for a shake. You can feel someone behind you just as a sickening _thunk_ pierces the air. Strong arms wrap around you from behind, covering your mouth to muffle your scream as Kevin falls to his knees: Seth’s ax firmly planted between his eyes.

“That’s for Lou,” and Seth spat on the newly lifeless body at his feet.

“We have to go,” Doyoung says into your ear, his arms pulling you away from the scene before your eyes.

Guilt pooled in your stomach and wreaked havoc with your limbs. Kevin’s pitiful crying and feeling outcast, to a sloppy kiss that never should have been shared flooded your mind as you stumbled after Doyoung. Once in sight of the car, you dropped to the ground as the contents of your stomach emptied out onto the dry autumn grass. Your throat burned as you gagged and the acid parched your mouth and throat further. Doyoung’s hand was there to help you up, warm with a tight grip. Just as you were feet from the car an angry yell stopped you both: Seth had run after you, dragging his beastly ax. Your fingers fumbled for the keys hidden in your clothes.

“Don’t move a step closer,” Doyoung yelled across the distance, drawing his bow and aiming at Seth.

“You fucking bastard!” Seth raised his ax as if to throw it.

“Me? No, I’m not the _fucking bastard_, but I’m looking at him. You’ll be dead before that ax can even leave your hand.” Doyoung’s words sounded forlorn, firelight danced across his face highlighting his somber features.

Your fingers found the keys and you grimaced as the car lights flashed upon unlocking.

“Lou was already DEAD! Would you have preferred that she kill us all?” Doyoung said this while taking a small step back closer to the car.

Seth’s words were indistinguishable, his head shook angrily but his arm that held the ax aloft showed signs of wavering. You feared to move, not wanting to provoke a violent reaction from him. It seemed that life and hope breathed out of Seth, his anger quelled and his head and weapon that he had once confidently held high dropped. The three of you stood there in the crisp night air, flames illuminating your bodies as you all bore witness to the destruction of humanity. Fear had eaten hope and compassion, it had torn away supporting another person and sticking together when times got hard.

You and Doyoung got into the car and drove off without a word: abandoning another human to his own destruction. The line between bravery and cowardice was thinner than you had expected.

——————————————————————-

Dawn broke the long night, but tremors still coursed through your overwrought body. The steering wheel a victim to your hands harshly grasping it as you drove on an unfamiliar road past unfamiliar signs. Begrudgingly you watched as the fuel dial shifted closer and closer to empty. Doyoung had a road map out of the entire country—something left behind by your father—on his lap, though he never offered any directions. There had been a safe place on the other side of the country and so you drove towards it. Abandoned vehicles scantly littered the highway, their owners left to wander into the unknown.

“Turn off at this exit.” Doyoung finally chirps as he glances at the fuel gauge that hovers above the large E.

The sun rises to reveal the autumn colours that paint the countryside. The seasons move on, plants in nature persist where animals in nature appear to be failing. The birds of the sky seem to remain unscathed. You follow Doyoung’s directions until the engine begins to fail, sputtering to a halt and dying. Another metal corpse to be seen on the roadside. You both pack all you can carry, needing free hands to protect yourselves. Food weighs your pack down, and Doyoung leads you through the woods. Fallen pine needles that carpet the forest floor lightly crunch beneath your boots. Sunlight easily penetrates the boughs of trees and bathes your face. A clearing up ahead opened to reveal a comfortable small house next to a large open field that boasted one decrepit old barn. Flowers sat dying in their boxes and a paved driveway was flanked by a lawn in need of mowing on either side. The air smelled of rain with the underlying scent of rot. Doyoung sighed, and you watched his face soften and his eyes drink in this little house with a sense of familiarity. Wood neatly sat stacked along the south face of the structure, three solar panels absorbing the sunshine from atop the roof. His dark eyes solemnly searched the upstairs windows. You noticed a dark smear on a pale blue door and recognized it to be old blood. A scraping of glass pulls your attention away from the dark stain and up to a window: a zombie stands to peer through a window on the second floor of the house, watching you and Doyoung with pale dead eyes.

“Doyoung,” you say in a voice barely above a whisper as your eyes avert to his still figure.

“That’s my uncle.” He cuts you off, stating it quietly and matter-of-factly. The former world’s condolences sound empty in this new republic of death and destruction.

Doyoung’s head drops as he shakes it, “You old, dumb bastard,” you hear him mutter. He turns to you, grimly offering a smile before jerking his head for you to follow him.

You enter the little barn in the field after him: it’s scarcely more than a toolshed. A lawnmower sits on the rotting floorboards with browning grass clippings still on the mower deck from its last use. He pulls at a ripped tarp that is thrown on the floor before moving a piece of plywood that presumably had been set down to replace a particularly bad patch of the floor…to reveal a metal hatch. Oddly, there appeared to be a manhole cover near the back corner of this little building.

“What is that?” You ask as Doyoung drags the plywood away to lean against a wall.

“Well,” he hesitates and his brows furrow as he decides how to begin “A couple years after my uncle bought this place my brother and I came to visit and found this while we were playing. At first, our parents wouldn’t let us check it out or anything, but finally, my uncle decided to go down and found that it lead to, like, an old cold war bunker.”

“Is it still there?!” You ask him in disbelief.

“Well, I mean, it should be but it’s been a couple years since I’ve been here.” His face is not devoid of humour as he looks at you, obviously somewhat pleased with your reaction.

You help him lift the metal cover up, greeted by a very dark hole disappearing into the ground. You fished a flashlight from a pocket, shining it down to reveal a rusting iron ladder and then another hatch.

“How do we know that someone else isn’t down there?” You ask looking across the hole into his eyes.

“We don’t,” Doyoung replies without breaking eye contact.

—————————————————————————————-

Day 26: October 4th.

The day is overcast and you are thankful that you need not squint against the sun as you take aim at a makeshift target on the side of the old barn. Every day Doyoung insists that you practice with his bow—you can hit a bullseye when you’re lucky now. A breeze flutters the first of the fallen golden leaves. Doyoung’s light laugh catches your attention and you glance at him, suddenly struck by how much of a shame it is that the day isn’t sunny and the sun can’t shine off of his dark silky hair.

“Look where you’re aiming,” he frowns at you before you can revert your attention.

Everything had been moved from the car into the bunker. Despite its age, it still seemed to have maintained its structural integrity. There were signs of age, but Doyoung and his brother had fully turned it into their playhouse to hang out in when visiting their uncle. It had been well stocked with water and a few non-perishable food items as well as alcohol camp cookstoves and batteries. Doyoung’s uncle had proven to set up the solar panels on the house roof to charge batteries that powered the bunker. There was scarcely anything to power above the few lights and a ventilation system. The bed was soft but comfortable. Childishly drawn maps you found on a shelf were from games that Doyoung and his brother had made up. A forgotten Gameboy was found between the wall and the bed. There were a handful of books to read, a deck of cards and a couple board games. It felt very much like being the only two people in the world down there. It had taken a few days to grow accustomed to the wholly engulfing silence of living underground.

————————————————————————————-

Day 29: October 7th, 

_Journal Entry_

I finally hit two bullseyes in a row!

Though we haven’t made any preparations to leave and try to find a safe haven for humanity, I don’t feel as restless and useless as I did at the cabin. When Doyoung and I are hanging out or playing games I feel like for just a little bit that everything is normal…and for the first time in a really long time, I don’t feel lonely.

Yesterday I told him what had happened to Mom and Dad, and he said that he felt lucky because he didn’t know what exactly had happened to his parents or brother.

He likes to play music a lot in the bunker on his phone, and we get to listen to music together while we eat at the table.

I am still having some trouble with sleeping at night, for I feel that every time I try to settle down to sleep I re-witness… well you know what. I had a horrible thought last night…that maybe it would just be easier for us to stay here. Safer. But, I also know that there isn’t enough food to last us the winter.

————————————————————-

Day 34: October 12th

You wake up tired. The room is pitch black, the bed slightly too soft. You can hear the slight whistle of Doyoung’s breathing. You smile, feeling a weight in your chest as you sit up and look over to where he is sleeping. You can’t see him, but it is a comfort to know he is there. Your limbs are weighed by familiar fatigue as you sit up and settle against a firm pillow. It is your daily ritual. Wake up in the dark to escape the night terrors. Or just to listen to him. His sleep sounds peaceful, but can it really be? You sit and drift in and out of a light sleep until Doyoung wakes up. At first, he curls into a ball with a soft groan, you can only tell this because his body seems to shrink on the mattress before he is sitting up in a groggy position. You pull your knees into your chest, hugging them, knowing it will take a long time for Doyoung to fully awaken. In the dark, you live like moles in their burrows. Every breath can sound as loud as a gasp, a muffled footstep is a stomp. Only above ground does it feel right to talk above a whisper.

But the silence can be deafening, and hearing the ruffle of blankets as Doyoung gets up in the morning sounds like calming music. With a grimace, you turn away and hide your eyes as he searches for the light switch in the dark. The light is so bright that it is an assault to your eyes each day, you keep your eyes closed while letting the light penetrate your eyelids. Doyoung’s weight settles on the bed again, and without even looking you know he must be shielding his sensitive eyes as well. You both share a can of warm tomato soup for breakfast—a soup you had once hated, but you had very few options now. The rationing of food had made you less picky as your body remained in constant starvation mode.

A map with a lightly penciled in trail lays between you and Doyoung on the table. It’s the backcountry woods trail to an army base that had been safe 30 days ago. It felt like years ago, but was it really only a month? Doyoung was scarcely more than a stranger, but what had life been like before you met him? Could it really be that 6 weeks ago you had been preparing to head back to college, and you were going to parties, and working part-time? The last dinner in your house with both your parents had been the end of August—if you only knew. But, no, it would have been impossible to fathom.

The morning is crisp, the air is damp and the ground squelches beneath your feet as you run. The open field has become a training ground, though the only zombie around is the one in the little house—who sometimes is heard scraping against the upstairs windows. Your body aches at the end of each day, and a rainwater barrel serves as your ice-cold washbasin.

Neither of you brings up going into the house: it’s better left alone. The small unkempt garden is ransacked for anything edible—a few tomatoes that seem unmotivated to ripen, potatoes, and misshapen carrots. A few fresh potatoes are a glorious feast boiled on the alcohol cookstove, but the rest are stored for later.

“How do you not…break your neck?” Doyoung rubs his neck and then stretches it side to side with a wince.

“It’s got nothing to do with your neck!” Your voice rises a bit, mostly with humour “it’s a tuck and roll—not throw yourself onto the ground and tuck your head.”

“But there must be a neck tuck! You tuck your chin into your chest a bit—like this” he demonstrated how you looked when you tucked and rolled. You bump into him with a laugh when you see the wide-eyed and insistent look he gives you.

“Yes, but you just threw yourself down onto the ground on your neck” you could quell your laughter but not the smile on your lips as you brought your hand up to his neck brushing against where he had landed on his spine “of course it hurts doing it like that.” You frown upon feeling something with your hands.

“What?” Doyoung strains his neck to try and look over his shoulder where you are looking.

“You have dirt on your spine and grass stains on your shirt.” You chastised.

“Well you have them on your shoulder and knees,” he gestured to your own clothes. You nod in agreement, looking at him in a matter of fact way.

“Then I guess that’s where you have to land,”

——————————————————————

Day 40: October 18th

You cry out, the blanket sticks to your clammy skin—suffocating your body. You force your eyes open, your heart beats rapidly in its skeletal prison as you push back the hair that adheres to your face. While regulating your breathing your eyes find Doyoung’s form on the edge of the bed; his back towards you and his weary head rests in his hands. His shoulders rise and fall with his breaths, his lengthening hair messily protruding in every direction and falling into his eyes. You swallow the lump in your throat, a nagging question finally finding purchase on your tongue.

“Do you think we were right leaving Seth behind?”

Doyoung doesn’t make any effort to answer for a while, you begin to think that maybe he won’t answer at all until he shifts on the mattress to look at you.

“I don’t really know if we were right or wrong…” he licks his lips, looking down at his hand that squeezes the blanket in his grip “But I couldn’t accept what he had done that day; fuck, I can’t even accept it now.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath when he abruptly turns away from you again. Doyoung’s hand still rests on the blanket and you turn your head to the side to quietly study it. His fingers are long and narrow, his palms soft and veins just visible on the back of his hand. His posture relaxes and his grip softens on the blanket, he clears his throat:

“Do you feel okay with what we did?”

Shifting below the covers, you think back: _”Thanks, man,”_ followed by a sound and vision you couldn’t forget. Your memory was like a home movie reel of horrific deaths. How could you accept what Seth had done? But you can’t forget what he had looked like as you had both abandoned him: defeated, left for little more than dead. If you couldn’t justify your actions, you at least had to accept them.

“No,” you finally reply, reaching out and laying your hand on top of his “But I think I would make that same choice again if I had to.”

Doyoung turns his hand over and intertwines his fingers with yours with a squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first part of 80 Days Out. Please leave a comment or question if you enjoyed it; that really makes my day!


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